


Siren Song

by insufficientemotionalfunds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas isn't as cute and innocent as we sometimes believe, Dean's unspoken pining gets him into trouble, Dubious Consent, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Coercion, Sam ships Destiel, Sexual Coercion, Sirens, You might get emotional whiplash, though he's still pretty damn cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:38:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufficientemotionalfunds/pseuds/insufficientemotionalfunds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He’d grudgingly taken on the legwork portion of this hunt, fully prepared for his very own Special Edition Castiel, Siren of the Lord."</p><p>Dean gets a little more than he bargained for from a supposedly run-of-the-mill monster of the week. After all, everyone thinks they'll be immune to a siren's charms until the love of their life is standing in front of them offering it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dean peeked cautiously around the corner, back to the wall and straining his neck to get a glimpse of the hallway. Finding nothing of interest—seductive or otherwise—he eased out into the open with an irritated huff, idly palming at the dagger sheathed at his side.

He was beginning to think that Sam’s research had been a definite miss this time around. He’d been scouring this place for the last forty-five minutes and hadn’t caught a glimpse of their siren—of course it _would_ be his luck to scope out the strip club on the bitch's night off. This was a bust. They’d have to come back during business hours the next day to track her down, hopefully before lucky victim number seven did.

Digging out his phone, he was thumbing the number one speed dial to catch Sam up when the familiar whisper of wings behind him sent him fumbling. _“Jeez,_ Cas!” he growled, rounding on the angel with a scowl and shoving the cellphone back into his pocket. “Don’t sneak up on a man mid-hunt! If I didn’t know better, I woulda thought you were—” He grimaced as Castiel furrowed his brow curiously, and snapped his dumbass mouth shut before it got him into trouble.

“Thought I was…?” Cas prompted.

Dean pursed his lips. His friend didn’t need to know that he’d grudgingly taken on the legwork portion of this hunt, fully prepared for his very own Special Edition _Castiel, Siren of the Lord_. “Nothin’.” As far as he knew though, sirens hadn’t added teleportation to their repertoire… so he was at least ninety two percent sure that this was the genuine article. “What’re you doin’ here anyway?”

“I’d thought we could watch the next movie on my 'Cinematic Education' list tonight, but when I called Sam to find out where you two were staying, he said you were here, so….” The angel did an awkward-looking little half-shrug thing. “Here I am.”

“Uh huh.” Dean quirked an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you just call _me?”_ He couldn’t remember having done anything to piss his friend off—in the past two days or so, anyway—which was the only reason he could think of for Cas to contact Sam instead of him... seeing as, y'know, _Dean_ was the one he wanted to hang out with. Usually, Castiel's conversations with Sam consisted almost entirely of nerdy research-related texting. There was a shrill warning bell sounding in the back of his mind.

Cas pursed his lips and glanced to the side uncertainly and Dean felt a tiny bit of the tension lacing his shoulders drain away at the familiar body language. “I… wanted to surprise you. You’ve been unhappy since the incident with Benny. I was going to bring beer and pie.”

The angel ducked his head, those earnest blue eyes darting up to meet green hesitantly through a fringe of dark hair, and Dean huffed a quiet, easy laugh, shaking his head fondly.

“Yeah? That sounds pretty awesome, dude.” He clapped a hand warmly onto his friend’s shoulder, grinning when Cas glanced at it quickly before returning his gaze to Dean’s face. “In fact, let’s go do _that._ Sounds about a billion times better than looking for this damn siren. It ain’t here anyway.”

“You were hunting a siren?” Cas scowled at him disapprovingly. “Without backup?”

“Well, yeah. That way if it whammies me, I won’t turn around and just ice Sam on the spot or something.”

“Do you have a mirror with you?” the angel interrogated, eyes darting up and down his person.

Dean rolled his eyes, tapping a finger against the solid shape of the compact mirror nestled in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Yes, _sir.”_ He frowned as a thought worked its way to the forefront of his mind; a mirror that he’d brought for the sole purpose of flashing at anything even remotely Cas-shaped to expose his prey’s true face. Well, there was a _very_ Castiel-looking thing in front of him where no Castiel was originally planned… so, why hadn’t he checked him in the mirror, yet? He shook his head, trying to clear it. Christ, he knew that Cas had a tendency to put him at ease, but that was just… _stupid_. Dangerously so. “Yeah… come to think of it, I should probably….”

He fumbled for the zipper, yanking it down with a jerk and then reaching clumsily for the compact.

“Dean….”

Cool fingers wrapped gently around his own and he froze, glancing down at Cas. “Wha…?”

“The beer and the pie were only Plan B,” Cas murmured—fuckin’ murmured. _Cas. **Murmured.**_

Dean swallowed, back thudding against the wall as the angel crowded closer, drawing their clasped hands up and trapping them beside the hunter’s head. _Shit._ “And…" He cleared his throat roughly. "What was Plan A?” 

Cas licked his lips, eyes dropping to Dean’s mouth and lingering far longer than they normally did. Dean felt heat explode in his belly as a lean, firmly muscled body slotted itself into place against his. _Fuckfuckfuck._ He was fucking _expecting_ it, how’d it get a jump on him like this!?

“Well, it starts with getting Sam a different room,” Cas breathed against his jaw, not even missing a beat as he snatched Dean’s other hand away from where it was inching toward the blood-coated bronze dagger at his side and pinning it next to his hip. “And then I would….” He slid his thigh emphatically in between Dean’s and _rubbed_ and the hunter knocked his head sharply into the wall in an effort to shake off the haze of lust because—

 _“You’re not Cas,”_ he snarled, attempting to twist away from the smirking lips trailing along the side of his neck.

“I’m anyone you need me to be, Dean Winchester,” the siren rumbled in Castiel’s lowest register and it shot straight to Dean’s dick despite the knowledge of just what was humping his leg wearing the angel’s face. “I can read your mind, Dean, remember? Every last thought you hide away deep inside _…._ I _know_ where you want this mouth….” He licked a hot strip across Dean’s throat, grazing sharp teeth over the swell of his Adam’s apple. “These fingers….” He twisted their arms up and around, transferring both of Dean’s wrists into one hand so he could trail the other down over back and ass and thigh. “This _cock….”_ He ground into Dean’s leg roughly before dragging his hips torturously across the hunter’s groin.

Dean moaned, his own hips bucking traitorously as the siren drew his lower body away in a clear taunt.

 _Fuck._ He had _not_ been prepared for this—his last encounter with a siren had been almost uncharacteristically platonic for the creature’s MO, and he’d cockily been  _so sure_ that he’d be able to take out something that looked like his angel as long as it _wasn’t actually his angel._ Sure, he knew how shit with sirens went down... but he was a grown, sexually active man with a healthy libido and _extended knowledge_ of what the thing could do, for Christ’s sake! He’d been sure that he could control his own lust, manipulated or not, long enough to gank the motherfucker.

“Fuck you!” he panted furiously, shoving bodily at the siren and sending him stumbling backward.

He kept firm hold of Dean's wrists and yanked, using his own momentum to send them both crashing into the wall opposite. “Mmmm,” Cas’ voice purred as one arm snaked out to wrap around Dean’s lower back and drag him in, trapping the siren snugly between warm hunter and cold concrete, “You _can,_ you know. That’s the difference between _me_ and an _angel—_ with him, you can only look and want and try to convince yourself it’s _his_ hand jerking you off in the shower—” Dean growled unhappily, twitching his face away. “With me, you get all of the perks and none of the baggage.” The hand at his back shot up into his hair with no warning, shoving his head down sharply until chapped lips were brushing the shell of his ear as he spoke. “You can pound me through this wall right here and now and I will scream _every word_ you’ve ever fantasized this voice screaming for you.”

 _Shitshitshit._ In a panic, Dean tried to wrench away drunkenly, lurching back a single step before that iron grip caught hold of the back of his neck and stilled him, the other hand coming up to turn his face around to meet the siren’s gaze.

“Dean….” He moaned and suddenly the monster was gone from those blue eyes and _Cas_ was reaching for him needily. “How many times are you going to let me die a virgin, Dean?” And _fuck,_ that was the opening line of Dean's favorite bit of spank material—

He slammed into Cas hard enough for the angel’s head to ricochet off the wall and caught his mouth on the rebound. Castiel’s groan sounded almost like a triumphant chuckle as he bit sharply at Dean’s bottom lip, drawing a tiny swell of blood. The hunter opened up immediately and eagerly licked the slight tang of copper off of Cas’ tongue as it surged in.

The deserted back hall of a strip club fell away, everything except his angel going foggy around the edges… but Cas— _oh, **Cas**_ was shining like a beacon. He was wild and vibrant and more _alive_ than Dean had seen him in years.

Dean raked his hands roughly through Castiel’s hair, wrenching back for just a second to grin at the mess of it—he could almost see the sparks from shattering bulbs in a long-ago barn raining down over an angel's head in a halo of blazing light—before diving hungrily for the stubbled curve of his jaw. “I miss… your… sex hair,” he grunted, sinking his teeth into the bared skin of his throat.

“Then you’ll just have to keep it messy,” Cas panted, grappling eagerly with Dean’s belt buckle and the fly of his jeans.

Dean growled, grabbing at his friend's thighs, fingers sliding warm over the crease where leg met ass, and jerking upward. Cas got the message, springing nimbly up to wrap his legs around Dean’s waist as the hunter pressed him back into the wall and sought out his mouth again.

 _Cas... Cas. **Fuck** yes. Finally. _ He didn’t know _how_ many times he’d dreamed of this since the angel had made his triumphant and mysterious return from Purgatory... laid awake at night, buzzing with need, wanting Castiel fully— in every way possible. Cas had been his for longer than Dean’d probably even known; his in mind, heart, and grace... and it was finally time to claim the body.

“Scream for me, angel,” he rasped gleefully, rubbing desperately into the length of searing heat he could feel pressed against his belly, “Want you to shatter every bit of glass in this goddamn den of iniquity for me, baby.”

 _“Deeeeeeeean,”_ Castiel keened into his temple, hands scrabbling for his ass and yanking hard, rutting Dean's hips up into his own and shimmying the hunter’s jeans down his thighs. _“Yes_ , Dean. _Please_. Make me feel human, Dean— so rough and dirty and blasphemous— oh, _please…._ ”

Dean choked as Castiel gasped all the filthy things he’d ever dared to imagine the angel saying into his ear, clenching his eyes shut and forcing his hands between them to frantically search out Cas’ belt.

An obnoxious guitar riff sounded from somewhere near his knees, but his angel was almost in hysterics moaning every fantasy Dean’d ever had involving those shadowy wings and Dean’s dick and he could not _possibly_ give less of a fuck as the phone went to voicemail.

“You’re mine, Dean Winchester,” Cas snarled into his ear as Dean let him slip down the wall to his feet for just long enough to divest him of shoes and slacks and underwear before the hunter was gathering him up again. _“Say it.”_

“Yours, yours… _Cas…._ ” Dean almost begged around his own fingers before sliding them slickly down over the curve of Castiel’s ass. “Always. _Yours.”_

The guitar started up again, but Dean was buried knuckle deep in his own personal heaven and didn’t even register it.

“Nothing’s ever going to come between us again, Dean….” Castiel was deadly calm as he licked a wet strip across his own palm before reaching down and around, taking firm hold of Dean’s cock.

“Yours, Ca— _fuck_ , I’m yours.” Dean mouthed the words across his collarbone and bit down hard when the hand guided him unerringly, almost too easily, into tight, burning heat. “Love you. I love you so fuckin’ much. ‘m never letting you go again. I'm yours.”

“I know,” the siren said with a smirk, carding his fingers gently through Dean’s hair and tilting his head back for a possessive kiss. Dean whimpered into his mouth, grabbing at his waist as the siren began to roll his hips. “You won’t let _anything_ take me away from you, will you?” he panted against the hunter’s lips, “Not Heaven… or the prophet….”

Dean shook his head furiously, burying his face against the side of his neck.

“Not even your _brother_ or your _angel.”_

“No,” Dean grunted, thrusting up into him with almost violent determination, “Not _anyone._ I’ll kill 'em if they come near you.”

The siren rewarded him with a long, hitching moan of his name and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s shoulders, curling down over him as his movements became more frantic. “Good. Then I’ll love you, Dean. As long as you’re _mine,_ I will love you.”

 _“Yes,"_ Dean hastened to reassure him, "Please. Yours, yours, yours….”

 

* * *

 

_“This is Dean’s other **other** cell. So, you must know what to do.”_

Castiel frowned as the machine played Dean’s voicemail message back to him and sighed.

“Dean,” he answered dutifully after the beep, “We need to talk. I’m sure that you must've finished up with the case Sam texted me about earlier, so I hope you’ll call back in a few minutes…. Sam says that you’ve been upset for over a week. He seemed very frustrated himself, and he didn’t say much, so— Dean, please... I want to help you, like you’ve been trying to help me. I’m worried about you. You’ve been suppressing your emotions ever since— Look, I know you’re still blaming yourself, but it’s _not your fault._ It’s _never_ your fault. You... you’re the only thing I have left to fight for, Dean. I need you, too. I love—”

He swallowed unhappily, quickly pressing the series of buttons that Sam taught him would cancel the message, and ended the call. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fist around the phone and spent a long moment gathering himself before calling once more.

_“This is Dean’s other **other** cell. So, you must know what to do.”_

“Dean, we need to talk….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, this got away from me. I actually hadn't intended to turn it into a sex scene, believe it or not, and it turned out a little darker toward the end than I'd originally anticipated....  
> Speaking of the sex, that's actually the most explicit I've been with these two thus far, so I hope it was decent? And also, I don't honestly think Cas would do shit like "keen" and "whimper" in bed and I doubt Dean does either... the siren's just acting out a fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive!
> 
> (So, I didn't really feel like re-watching Sex and Violence, but I remember lots of fun mind control shit so that's what I ran with.)

Sam snuffled unhappily, reaching out and flailing blindly for the ringing phone on the side table. “H’lo?” he slurred groggily, attempting to bury his face back into the pillow.

_“Sam.”_

The younger Winchester rolled his eyes ineffectually behind their closed lids. “Cas, what the hell, man? Since when did you start calling _me?_ Did you and Dean have a lover’s spa—?”

_“Dean isn’t returning my calls.”_

“Not surprising.” Sam huffed, still three-quarters of the way asleep. He flopped over onto his back but kept his eyes firmly closed in the hope that if he got the angel off the line fast enough, he could maybe catch a couple more hours. “He probably silenced his phone.”

_“Sam, please—”_

Sam ignored his friend as his brain grumpily started whirring to life. “What time _is_ it, anyway…?” He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, peeking one eye open to glance at the lit display as he held the phone away from his face. He shot up, fighting the tangle of sheets. “7:30!? What the _hell,_ you jerk, you were supposed to wake me when—” Hazel eyes glanced over the stuffy confines of their motel room, taking in the perfectly-made, un-slept-in bed beside his own. “Dean…?”

 _“ **Sam!** ” _Castiel’s voice crackled from the cellphone he’d dropped into his lap.

“Cas,” Sam replied warily, throwing off the covers and rummaging for his bag, “Where’s Dean?”

 _“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to contact him, but— Where are you?”_ Castiel’s voice was as steady as ever— but even though Sam could never claim the rather disturbing level of accurate Cas-interpretation his brother achieved, he could still hear the tiny hints of true worry edging it.

Struggling to yank on his jeans while fumbling the phone, he quickly rattled off the motel and room number before tossing it aside as the swish of Castiel’s wings filled the silence.

The angel turned his back without a greeting or acknowledgment, immediately inspecting every corner of the tiny room like if he looked hard enough Dean would pop out of hiding with a cock-sure smirk to laugh at how easily ruffled Castiel was. “Dean didn’t return last night,” he said unnecessarily from the doorway to the bathroom.

“No,” Sam confirmed, snatching up his phone again and hitting speed dial number one. “He was supposed to wake me up when he got back.”

_“This is Dean’s other **other—** ”_

“Damnit.” Sam scowled as he ended the call.

“Is it possible his phone has died?” Cas hypothesized slowly, though he looked like he found the idea unlikely. “Or maybe he… went to a bar after he finished. You know how a successful hunt—” _gets him raring for a good old-fashioned victory romp._ He averted his gaze unhappily.

Sam pursed his lips, leveling a disbelieving bitchface at the angel. _Yeah, like Dean’s even **noticed** anything but **you** in over a **year.**_ “He at least would’ve called,” he said instead. No way was he getting embroiled in their weird-ass mating dance.

Castiel released the breath he’d been holding in a sigh of relief and Sam felt a familiar twinge of irritation. Seriously, he knew for a fact that even _Cas,_ goddamn oblivious angel that he was, had caught on to the _blatant_ look-at-me-notice-me-please-please- _please_ -just-love-me vibes Dean had been beaming his way. Maybe it'd taken a while, but they'd finally met in the middle! Dean loved Cas, Cas loved Dean... _everyone_ was happy— or at least  _could be._ Seriously, it would only be considerate of Cas to save his—practically, at this point—brother-in-law the headache and put the poor guy out of his misery.

“Sometimes I regret marking the two of you,” Cas was muttering when Sam tuned back in, “I wish I’d found a way to exclude myself from the warding.”

“So, you can’t, like… just sense him through your _‘bond’_ or whatever…?”

 _Wow, this must be what a parent feels like when their kid starts using their own arguments against them,_ he thought dully as Castiel flashed him a very familiar scowl.

“Alright, fine.” He swallowed, sobering. The fact was that his brother, who had been working a case solo—a case that would involve his deepest desires made flesh—hadn’t returned or even checked in and wasn’t answering his phone. Fuck, he shouldn’t have nagged Dean into taking the kill…. Yeah, being taunted with Amelia was about the last thing he wanted to deal with right now, but at least he would’ve _known_ that she was across the country and couldn’t possibly be there. On the other hand, the most likely incarnation of _Dean’s_ siren could easily— “Okay, so we shouldn’t panic, yet. He could’ve—”

“What were you hunting?” Cas interrupted testily, fidgeting more than Sam had ever seen. “You didn’t mention it when you texted.”

Sam grimaced nervously. “A… siren.”

The look that Cas fixed on him was one that Sam had come to associate with the receiver being horrifically smote. “And you chose to split up _because…?”_

“Hey, the last time we met one, it didn’t end well, okay? We figured—”

_“Where?”_

The hunter leapt for the table, digging the business card for the strip club out of the pile of papers under his laptop and passing it wordlessly to the angel.

“I’ll be back,” Castiel said absently, reading over the address before disappearing with a rustle.

“Damnit, _wait,_ Ca— you fucker, you could’ve taken me with you.”

He glared at the business card as it fluttered uselessly to the floor, before hazel eyes darted to the door and the empty parking space on the opposite side. They really needed to revisit that second car idea…. Cas would probably be back by the time he even managed to hotwire anything, anyway.

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand back through his hair and trudged toward the bathroom. Might as well get in a quick shower while he waited. After turning the water on full-blast and adjusting it to a non-Hell-memory-raising temperature, he shucked off his tee shirt with a frown.

Cas _would_ find Dean… there was nothing to worry about, really. Cas would find Dean if he had to literally rip the Earth apart in order to do so. Sam just hoped the angel would think to pop by and let him _know..._ y’know, if it _did_ come to that.

Halfway through his shower, a disproportionately cool swirl of air displaced the steam wafting listlessly over the curtain rod. He quirked a brow at it thoughtfully, slowly drawing the curtain back just enough to poke his head out and listen for any sounds of opening-and-or-closing doors or other movement from beyond the cracked door leading back into the room.

Silence. But in all honesty, that just made an unwelcome intruder all the more likely in their world.

Leaving the water running to mask any audible evidence of his movements, he toweled off and quickly pulled on his jeans and undershirt. Quietly, he fished out the gun Dean had taken to stashing in a plastic bag in the toilet tank of all their motel rooms, pointedly _not_ thinking about all the horrible deaths he could probably catch just from coming into contact with it, and slowly toed open the door.

Glancing cautiously around the doorjamb, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the figure silhouetted against the window, hunched down over the laptop that now stood open on the table. He frowned, dropping the handgun to his side and thumbing the safety back on as he fully exited the bathroom.

Sam stepped cautiously forward, taking a quick glance at the screen and registering what was the basic equivalent to a hunter’s journal that Dean had affectionately taken to calling ' _Sammeh W.’s How 2 Blog Fer All Ur Soopernatural Needz!!1!'_

“Dean?” he asked in confusion, glancing absently over the summoning ritual his brother was scrolling through before doing a double take. _Wait. Is that—?_

The laptop slammed shut with a loud clack and the older man whirled to face him with a look of shock. “Sam!” He cleared his throat uncomfortably, green eyes darting from Sam to the steam still billowing out from the open bathroom. “I… didn’t hear you.”

Sam’s eyebrows made a valiant bid for his hairline in disbelief. “Uh, _yeah_. That’d be ‘cause I thought you were a—” He wiggled his gun emphatically. “I don’t know— _something._ What the hell are you doing sneaking in like that, anyway? Did Cas find you? Where is he?”

Dean didn’t reply, just kept fidgeting and glancing around the room in an effort not to meet the younger man’s pointed stare.

The suspicion that had been brewing deep in Sam’s gut boiled over and he took a slow, careful step forward. “Dean…. Where were you all night?” That twitchy gaze finally met his own for a brief second and Sam clenched his jaw at the glazed look in his brother’s normally sharp eyes. “You stupid asshole,” he barked, “did you seriously—?”

A soft fluttering sound at his side brought him up short.

“Sam, I—” Castiel began immediately, before Sam saw the angel’s head snap around in his periphery. “Dean?” he asked, relief coloring his low voice.

And any lingering doubt that his idiot brother had gotten himself siren-whammied like a complete fucking amateur— _again—_ went straight out the window when Dean laid eyes on his angel without even the tiniest flicker of emotion.

“Cas, wait,” Sam warned, reaching a hand out for his friend’s arm, never shifting his attention from the ticking bomb that was Dean.

Castiel had stiffened before the younger Winchester’s fingers even grazed his trench coat, eyes narrowing as he looked over the man squared off across from them. Sam could practically feel the air around them crackle ominously as Cas took a single step forward. _“Dean,”_ he growled, and the entire room seemed to shrink into the soul-searing stare the angel had fixed on the hunter.

Dean didn’t even flinch, only began inching slowly, carefully to the side and reaching for the handle of the door when it was directly behind him.

Sam grit his teeth. “Dean, stop!” he yelled in frustration.

Daylight streamed into the room as the door swung lazily inward and Dean cocked his head challengingly while he took a slow, taunting step backward.

 _“Stop.”_ Castiel’s voice rang with power and the older hunter froze, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

Sam let out a long, shuddery breath, glancing at the angel and trusting him to not take his eyes off of their enthralled partner, for all the good it would do. “Can you fix him?” he muttered quietly.

There was a visible tick in the angel’s cheek as he grudgingly shook his head. “Not fast enough to be worth it. The siren will have woven itself into every corner of his mind. I would have to, quite literally, untangle each and every strand of influence to free him… and rushing it would only do more damage than good.” He scowled bitterly. “You know angels weren’t made for delicacy.”

The taller man ran a frustrated hand back through his hair. “Great,” he huffed, eyeing Dean as he began to twitch even under the angelic influence. “So… _what?_ We just lock him up till we gank the siren? If it’s got its claws in him, he’s gonna put up a hell of a fight— he won’t let us anywhere near the thing.”

“Of course he won’t,” Cas replied airily, “He’d kill you first.”

Sam scrunched his face up. “Uh. Pretty sure he’d go after _you_ too,” he grumbled, shooting a half-hearted eye-roll in his friend’s direction, “Just ‘cause he wants to bang—” He cut off with a concerned frown. "Cas?"

Castiel was frozen somewhere between shock and rage, wide blue eyes fixed unblinkingly on Dean. Sam followed his gaze, first taking in the unaccountably smug smirk on Dean’s face and then the arm that was slowly curling around him through the open doorway.

“He’d die before he let you anywhere near me,” Castiel’s voice continued as a perfect copy of the angel slid up against Dean’s back, hooking his chin over the hunter’s shoulder while his other arm joined the first at Dean’s waist.

“O-oh,” Sam mumbled weakly, watching Dean weave his own fingers through the ones resting against his stomach, turning to brush his nose tenderly over the sharp curve of Castiel’s cheekbone. He felt something clench in his chest at the blissful smile stretching his brother’s lips as he nuzzled the siren’s jaw lovingly. He swallowed thickly, glancing worriedly down at the angel at his side. “Cas…?”

The look on his friend’s face only intensified the painful wrenching feeling behind his sternum. Castiel looked completely shattered. Sam watched his eyes dart from Dean to the siren and back again, watched them trace the length of Dean’s arm to the intimate tangle of fingers before rising once more to see the fake Cas press a slow, exaggerated kiss to the hunter’s neck while staring the angel down tauntingly. Castiel’s face darkened, his hands clenching into angry fists at his sides.

Sam took that as his cue to get this show back on the road. “Let him _go,”_ he growled for lack of a better opener, raising the gun—however useless against the asshole—and glowering down the length of it at the smirking face perched on his brother’s shoulder.

Immediately, Dean reached back and around, pushing the siren gently to the side without losing any bodily contact and placing himself firmly between his fake Cas and a bullet. He glared at Sam, raising his chin defiantly as he curled one hand protectively over the siren’s hip.

Sam grimaced, stomach churning in distress as he dropped the gun to point at the floor.

The siren _grinned_ gleefully _,_ and it was such a strange thing to see on Castiel’s face. “No,” he drawled, kicking the door shut before skimming his fingers up over Dean’s chest to cup the hunter’s chin and turn his face toward his own. “I don’t think I will.” He leaned in to plant a messy kiss on Dean’s mouth, more tongue than anything, and Sam heard a low, furious snarl from the angel beside him. “I mean….” The siren broke away, licking his lips like a contented cat and pressing his cheek to Dean’s as he looked back at Sam and Castiel. “This is _Dean Winchester_ we’re talking about here— who _wouldn’t_ jump at the chance to have him at their beck and call? I can’t honestly think of a safer position to be in right now… can you?”

The younger hunter lurched forward only to have Dean defensively press the siren back a step, still shielding him. He grit his jaw unhappily, because _damnit_ if the fucker wasn’t right— there was no place safer from the Winchesters and their angel than standing behind one of their own. “Dean,” Sam called pleadingly, “C’mon man, that’s not Cas!”

“Oh, but I _am.”_

The siren glanced at Dean, eyes flashing with intent, and the hunter nodded minutely, reluctantly pulling away and drifting toward the table where the laptop was still sitting. Sam tensed, confused.

“To _Dean,_ I _am_ Cas,” the siren continued, meeting the real Castiel’s gaze and smiling cruelly, “I’m giving Dean what he needs most right now— _his angel._ I’m giving him the love and devotion that you dangled in front of him for years and then snatched away _right_ when he was finally ready to _take_ it.” He licked his lips tauntingly, eyes narrowing. “And _oh, how_ he _took it,”_ he purred throatily, “Spread himself out for me so beautifully— begged for it like a whore. You really should’ve heard how he screamed your name, Castiel… _. 'Cas’_ just sounds so _good_ sobbed into a pillow, you kn— oh, wait, you _don't_ know.” He smirked as Castiel twitched, practically pulsating in his rage. “You _really_ haven’t lived until the great Dean Winchester begs you, on hands and knees, to fuck him like an animal. Do you wanna know how _good_ it feels to be inside the Righteous Man, angel? Buried _deep_ with him writhing and _moaning_ and—”

 _'Fuck, **ew** ,' _and  _'o_ _h_ _shit,'_ were all Sam had the time to think before the façade of calm shattered.

 _“Enough.”_ Castiel’s snarl was punctuated by the sizzling crack of every light bulb in the motel room exploding in a shower of sparks. He took a step forward, one hand rising in a blaze of wrathful holy light as he reached for his mirror image.

There was a brief flash of fear in the siren’s stolen eyes before he drew himself up. “Dean!” he barked, command ringing loud in the single word.

A foreboding chill washed over Sam as he glanced over to where Dean was hovering at the edge of the table, one hand splayed out over the laptop and the other—

“Wha— _No!”_ he shouted.

Cas whirled, fear etched across his face in response to the panic in Sam’s voice.

The safety clicking back sounded like a thunderclap in the sudden deadly silence of the room as Dean raised his own gun and pressed the barrel succinctly to his temple. Blank green eyes met Sam’s without even a hint of acknowledgement as the younger Winchester tripped forward, arms outstretched.

 _“Dean!”_ Sam and Cas screamed in chorus as the older hunter’s finger began to tighten.

“Stop.” And everything did; the only movement in the room was the slow ease of Dean releasing the trigger. “Stay still, Dean,” the siren continued almost lazily, glancing from the hunter poised to paint the wall with his own blood to the figures of his family caught motionless in terror. “However… if either Sam or Castiel makes a move toward me, you _will_ pull the trigger immediately.”

Castiel clenched his fist, his entire vessel vibrating in fury. “If he does, I’ll only go and get him,” he promised in a deadly rumble, “but not before I rend you asunder and scatter your bloody pieces across the surface of the globe.”

A nervous tick dragged at the siren’s smug grin before he steeled himself haughtily. “Yeah, I know. But suicide is one of the big ones, isn’t it? One-way ticket straight down, right? Do you really want to risk it? How long would it take you to find him in Hell— days… weeks…? _Years_ , depending on what finds him first. The Pit’s on red alert for you three. Do you want him spending _any_ time down there at all?” Castiel clenched his jaw, and the siren smirked. “Didn't think so. Play nice, angelcakes.”

“Play nice for _what?”_ Sam grit out, finally taking his eyes off Dean to glare venomously at the monster wearing Cas’ familiar face. “What’s your game here?”

The siren huffed a laugh. “Do I even need to have one? Since when do you Winchesters question the motives of the things you hunt?”

“Since you raped my brother, you disgusting piece of shit,” Sam snarled, making a valiant attempt at slaughtering the thing with just his glare. Sometimes, he really missed the demon-blood days.

“Ah _ah,”_ the siren tsked with a mock-hurt expression, pressing one hand dramatically over his heart. “In all fairness, Sammy, _he_ fucked _me_ first. _He_ started it— and really….” He pursed his lips in an exaggerated show of thoughtfulness. “He was one of the easiest lays I’ve had in a long time. But then, the poor souls stuck pining for a love just _baaaaarely_ out of reach usually are. So maybe you should be taking this up with Mr. Mixed Signals over there.” He jerked his chin in Castiel’s direction with a smirk.

Cas’ face crumpled and he averted his gaze guiltily. Sam half reached for him empathetically, and his hand was hovering over the angel's shoulder when the siren gave a delighted-sounding chuckle that snapped them both back to attention.

“Wow,” he drawled with affected surprise, glancing to the side. “The demons really weren’t lying. You Winchesters _do_ love a good dramatic scene, don’t you?”

“What?” Sam snapped in confusion as Castiel turned to follow the siren’s darting gaze.

“You’re just… so easily distracted,” he giggled delightedly.

“Dean, no!”

Sam whirled at Castiel’s sharp plea, barely catching sight of his brother’s hand slapping open-palmed over the bloody sigil on the wall before the angel disappeared, flung violently away by the banishing spell. “Shit! _Cas!”_ he yelled, taking an instinctive step into the space his friend had inhabited just a second before.

“I mean, _really,”_ he heard the siren huff before a series of sharp blows sent blinding pain shooting through his temple, “this was actually kind of disappointing.”

Sam hit his knees with a ringing in his ears and dark spots blurring the edges of his vision. He dully saw Dean’s boots skirt around him on their way to the siren, dragged his unwilling eyes slowly up his brother’s body, over the gun still clutched in one hand and the laptop in the other. “Dean….” he implored in a heavy slur.

“Mm….” the siren hummed into the desperate-looking kiss Dean had leaned in for the second he was within reach, “Your brother wants you, love.”

Dull green eyes slid over to Sam as he tried to clumsily rise to his feet once more.

“Dean… c’mon dude— _please….”_

Dean licked his lips absently as he hefted the gun in his right hand and took a step forward. “Sorry Sammy,” he intoned lifelessly before he swung back and brought the butt of the weapon cruelly across his brother’s face.

Sam only saw the siren beckoning Dean insistently toward the door, heard the Impala roar to life, and then darkness took over and the carpet surged up to meet him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently this is going to be a bit longer than originally anticipated?  
> I think I just subconsciously REALLY need Sam and Cas to be bros again. So they bonded. And I maybe got a little meta about how Cas is acting around Dean this season.

Castiel stumbled to a halt, gritting his teeth and steadying himself against the disorientation of a banishment followed too quickly by flight. He shook his head to clear it, forcefully quelling his vessel’s nausea, and observed the room. There was no sign of Dean or the siren.

He turned his thoughts purposefully from what filth the monster could be coercing the hunter into every second it had him under its thrall and sought out the remaining member of his family. “Sam,” he hissed worriedly, eyes falling on the motionless body collapsed at the foot of a bed. He dropped to his knees at Sam’s side, rolling him gently onto his back and smoothing damp and bloody hair out of his face. Careful fingers traced the gash at Sam’s temple as it closed itself up, before he sent a soft pulse of energy tingling through skin and nervous system and called him back to wakefulness.

The younger Winchester jolted up with a groan, blinking at Castiel blearily as the angel steadied him. “C-Cas? What the hell, man?” He rubbed his hand over his face, grimacing when it came away sticky with residual blood. He stiffened as reality came back to him, eyes darting around the room over Castiel’s shoulder. “Dean’s gone.”

The angel nodded unhappily, taking Sam’s hand and heaving the larger man to his feet. Sam wobbled unsteadily and Cas forced himself to remain still despite the driving need to be doing _anything but_ and allowed his friend to grasp at his arm for support.

“What the hell?” Sam said again groggily, still shaking off his disorientation, “Why’m I alive? I mean—not that I’m not pleased about that, ‘cause… y’know, alive is always a plus… but shouldn’t he’ve killed me? Wait—” He attempted to push Castiel to arm’s length in order to meet his gaze, but just ended up shoving himself away and hanging off of him at an awkward angle. _“_ He _didn’t,_ did he? Did you—?”

Cas huffed in frustration, pulling Sam up straight and disentangling them. “You didn’t _die,_ Sam. Your wounds weren’t that serious.” He eyed the hunter suspiciously. “Although, I _am_ beginning to suspect compromised brain cells—”

Sam batted his shoulder with a bitchface before slumping shakily down on the bed. “Shut up, dick. I have a concussion—”

“I healed your injuries—”

 _“—So cut me some slack.”_ Sam overrode him, scowling. “The point _is_ , Dean should’ve killed me. That’s what sirens _do—_ ride high on the love, trick the vic into icing their _real_ loved ones, then split and leave the poor dude to try and pick up the pieces.”

“Yes,” Cas agreed thoughtfully, “This scenario does go against every bit of known siren lore. It seemed to have a higher purpose…. It didn’t want us dead… at least, not immediately. And the way it spoke… almost like it was dist—”

“Distracting us!” Sam said at the same time, snapping his fingers and pointing up at the angel emphatically. “I almost forgot— Dean took the laptop.” He glanced over at the empty space on the table. “And when I first came out of the bathroom, he was looking up….” He trailed off, eyes widening at the memory.

 _“Looking up…?”_ Castiel prompted, patience running very thin.

Hazel eyes darted up to meet his own, glinting with something bordering once more on panic. “Cas. He was going through the summoning ritual for Crowley.”

Dread dropped like a heavy weight into the pit of his stomach as Sam stared at him fearfully.

“Why would it want Crowley?” Sam asked.

Cas clenched his hand into a fist, swallowing down his own rising alarm and forcing himself to think through the presented facts logically. He already knew the answer, though— really, they both did. “Crowley’s made no secret of his distaste for you. In fact, given recent events, I have no doubt that there’s a bounty on your heads.”

Sam mouthed dumbly for a second, eyes darting frantically over the rest of the room. “So, you’re saying the siren was targeting Dean specifically?”

“I doubt it really cared which of you it got. It was probably after you _both._ The King of Hell's favor is very valuable, even outside of the demonic orders."

“What—?” The younger Winchester took a deep, steadying breath, running a hand back through his sticky hair. “What’s gonna happen if it manages to summon him?”

Castiel closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he rasped thickly, “There’s any number of—” He cleared his throat shakily. “Best case scenario—and I use that term very lightly—Crowley takes advantage of the siren’s hold over Dean to extract information about Kevin and the tablet… or even force Dean to bring Kevin to him. And… as much as Crowley detests you both, I doubt he would pass up an opportunity like this. Dean is—” He licked his lips forlornly. “He has… many talents that I’m sure Crowley would gladly make use of.”

Sam grimaced. “And… _worst_ case scenario?” he asked slowly, clearly aware that he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Crowley….” Cas turned his back, shoulders tensing at the thought. “Is a Crossroads demon first and foremost, the binding contract of words is his law and I— I broke our deal. The grudge he bears me is stronger than I ever anticipated. I fear that—” He heard Sam’s sharp intake of air and bowed his head shamefully.

“You think Crowley would use _Dean_ to punish _you?”_

“You _don’t?”_ He glanced at the hunter over his shoulder incredulously. “You _know_ Crowley, Sam, and you… you know how I fe— Dean’s… very dear to me. You both are. I’m afraid to say that… anyone who’s seen us together knows that. Crowley had no qualms about using you and Dean against me while we were working together— and _that_ was when we were on relatively _good_ terms. _Now_ , I can’t even imagine—”

Sam pursed his lips. “I get it,” he said shortly, before they lapsed into a tense silence. “So. Bright side, we know Dean’s alive, and is gonna stay alive at least for a while. Downside… the King of Hell _already_ didn’t like us, but then you cheated on him with us and now we have to worry about him torturing Dean in front of you as payback. And then probably turn him into a demon, anyway. Just to be a dick.”

“That… about sums it up,” Castiel grit out. He listened to Sam’s frustrated sigh and thought idly that the man shouldn’t have to be as calm about such a truly horrible situation as his life had conditioned him to be.

“Okay,” Sam said amidst the sounds of him getting to his feet, “So, we need to get to Dean before they summon Crowley. It’ll take them a while to gather all the ingredients. We have most of them in the trunk… but there’re a few herbs they’ll need to get.” Cas turned to meet Sam’s contemplative gaze and the hunter frowned at him. “There’s absolutely _no_ _way_ you can track him?”

Castiel almost rolled his eyes, instead settling for a disgruntled huff. “Don’t you think this would’ve been solved a lot sooner if I could?”

“Right.” Sam didn’t resist his own eye-roll. “Okay, I can probably trace the Impala through traffic cameras. I’ll need a computer…. Let me wash my face and then you can zap us over to the library.”

* * *

Cas followed Sam through the library to the bay of computers at the back of the building and took up position between his friend and the rest of the patrons as Sam settled in front of the furthest screen and began typing furiously. He kept up a continuous scan of the open space, making sure to subtly nudge anyone drifting toward their corner in another direction while Sam was using the public computer for less than legal means.

It was a Tuesday morning, however, and the library was quiet.

He didn’t have many curious book-lovers to distract him from the horrible memory of normally bright eyes clouded over and unresponsive as Dean worked a sigil to purposely rip Castiel from his side. He furrowed his brow, trying to focus on keeping watch instead of remembering Dean’s pleasure-glazed face as the siren took kisses that were clearly meant for _him._

_‘…You really should’ve heard how he screamed your name, Castiel….’_

_‘…Do you wanna know how **good** it feels to be inside the Righteous Man, angel…?’_

_‘… **He** fucked **me** first.’_

_‘—Easiest lay I’ve had in a long time—’_

_‘—Pining for a love just **baaaaarely** out of reach—’_

_‘—Should be taking this up with Mr. Mixed Signals—’_

“Cas?”

Dean had looked at the siren—looked at it because, to Dean, it _was_ Cas—the way he looked at _him..._ warm and soft and safe. Dean had looked at the siren the way Cas _wanted_ Dean to look at him... needy and adoring and completely in love.

 _“Cas._ Hey!”

Dean had leaned into the siren, pressed against it, wrapped around it… woven its fingers through his own.

Castiel was no stranger to Dean’s body. He’d molded it himself— reshaped it from the dredges of death into the vibrant perfection of life. He could trace the planes of it from memory, map it easily with contour lines traced between beloved freckles.

Even the sight of that body tangled inextricably with his own vessel’s was nothing new. He had images gifted in dream and fantasy— at night, Dean’s passionate prayers of his name, unhindered in sleep, drew the angel without fail into a reverie of bared skin and love given more freely than he would ever believe possible in the waking world.

Castiel knew desire, his own as well as Dean’s. But to see that desire played out before him… dangled cruelly in front of him when he had no right to—

**_“Castiel!”_ **

He jolted, turning to look at Sam who was pointedly watching his computer screen switch off and on of its own volition. He glanced around at the library patrons muttering curiously at the flickering lights overhead and winced. “Sorry….”

Sam narrowed his eyes, studying Cas’ averted face, before toeing out the chair next to him. “Sit.”

The angel shook his head once. “I should make sure you aren’t seen—”

 _“Sit down,_ dude. You hovering is just gonna draw more attention, anyway. Just make sure you block the screen.”

Castiel sighed and lowered himself to sit stiffly on the edge of the chair, gazing out at the rest of the library over the row of computers.

Sam worked quietly for a couple of minutes, though Cas could see hazel eyes darting up to glance worriedly at him every so often. Finally, he pressed a key with a flourish and slouched back into his chair as a progress bar appeared on the screen.

“Cas…” he started, and the angel was unable to fight off the affectionate warmth that bloomed in his chest as he was fixed with what Dean called the _Worried, Heartbroken Puppy Face_.

“I’m fine, Sam,” he assured him.

The younger Winchester shook his head firmly. “No, you’re not. Of course you’re not, there’s no reason you should be. Neither of us are.”

Castiel sighed wearily. “I would much rather we fix the problem than mope about it.”

“It’s gonna take a couple minutes to get through those firewalls,” Sam said with a quirked brow, “We’ve got the time to mope.”

Cas grit his teeth, shifting his gaze to watch the slowly loading bar on the screen behind his friend’s empathetic face.

“Cas,” Sam started again after a moment of silence. He swallowed, sitting up and leaning toward the angel carefully. “It’s not your fault.”

He glanced mournfully up at the light above Sam's chair before dropping his head into his hand with a tired sigh. “I fail to see how.” Sam’s face crumpled and he opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel beat him to it. “In fact, almost every part of this situation is _directly_ my fault. If I had destroyed Crowley any of the innumerable times I had the chance, he never would’ve targeted you like this. If I’d just— if I’d never pursued Purgatory, then—” He swallowed thickly, dragging his hand down over his jaw like he’d seen Dean do a thousand times over when frustrated. “And the siren used _me_ to—”

“Okay, stop,” Sam said resolutely, leaning forward to slap a hand solidly onto Castiel’s shoulder. “Listen to me, okay? Yeah, you fucked up— fine, whatever. We’ve acknowledged it and we’re moving on. If Dean and I spent the appropriate amount of time feeling guilty about all the stuff _we’ve_ messed up, we wouldn’t have time to do anything else, let _alone_ try to fix it. You’re trying to redeem yourself, and that’s all anyone can ask of you. Sure, you probably should’ve smited Crowley back when you had the juice to, but you’ll notice that Dean ‘n’ I’ve let him get away about a hundred times too many, too. Besides, we’re kind of unpopular with that crowd even without Crowley putting out a warrant. So, again, not your fault. And as far as the siren goes... well, there’s absolutely _no way_ **_that’s_** your fault. I can _guarantee_ you Dean knew exactly what it was going to be, and if he was stupid enough to still get hit— well, that’s on _him.”_

Castiel blinked dully, feeling a bit dazed. “But, if—”

“‘If’ what? Even if you two were already… uh….” Sam grimaced in mild distaste at the mental image. “Look, even if you and Dean had already stopped dancing around each other like middle-schoolers, he still would’ve jumped the thing…  probably even faster, really.”

“The siren said—”

“No.”

Castiel glanced up in confusion, meeting Sam’s gaze as the hunter pursed his lips sadly.

“Cas, just... _stop._ Look, I don’t know for sure why you’re pushing Dean away. I’ve got an idea— but it’s your business, and I sure don’t want to think too much about how much my brother and my friend want to do each other, so I try to stay out of it. For the record, I think it’s stupid and you two should’ve manned up and gotten together years ago. But whatever. And besides, this isn’t all on you. _Dean_ could’ve said something about a million times over by now, but for some reason he thinks you’re less emotionally stunted than him and can see how bad he wants you written all over his face— which yeah, you _can_ , but—”

“I don’t deserve him, Sam,” Cas mumbled, watching the progress bar fill and the screen blink into a map of the city’s street system. “Not after all the pain I caused.”

Sam glanced over at the computer with a sigh. “Yeah, I figured that’s what this was.” He turned in his seat and started drawing up the video footage from intersection cameras around the strip club they’d tracked the siren to. “I get that you’re punishing yourself. I don’t _agree_ with it, but I do understand.”

Cas frowned, shifting uncomfortably. “I can’t allow myself to be rewarded. I need to atone.”

“Well, sure….” Sam sighed, drumming his fingers absently on the keyboard. “But it isn’t just about _you_ at this point,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Cas straightened up, feeling his throat swell up unpleasantly as he watched Sam scowl at the computer screen.

“Okay, listen,” Sam huffed with sudden determination, turning his stern glare on Castiel. “I told you I want to stay out of it and I _do._ What you and Dean do or don’t do is between you and all I ask is you let me know _beforehand_ when I need to start getting my own room. So I’m only gonna say this once: you’re not just punishing yourself, you’re punishing _Dean.”_

Castiel bit his lip, felt his eyes sting as the words whipped across his face like a physical blow.

“It’s not as simple as what _you_ do or don’t deserve when there are other people in the mix. The second it affects someone else, it turns into a compromise. So, what you need to decide is this: what’s more important to you? Punishing yourself, or not hurting Dean?”

They sat in a heavy silence only broken by the sound of Sam’s typing as that question sank in.

“I… never wanted to hurt him.”

Sam’s lips twitched in a tiny, empathetic smile. “I know, dude, believe me. Just… think about what you’re gonna do after we get him back, okay?”

Cas gave a jerky nod, his lips in a thin, unhappy line.

“Okay, then.” Sam let out a long huff of air before leaning to tap at the screen. “So, this is the camera at the intersection next to the club. I pulled up the footage starting at 11 p.m. which is when Dean got there. We’ll see when he leaves and which way he goes, and then follow the car through the camera system.”

Cas straightened up, scooting to the edge of his seat to watch as Sam sped up the recording.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing Sam. I love him and I can't get his character right and that drives me nuts.

Sam rubbed the bridge of his scrunched nose, waiting for the ground beneath his feet to stop rolling before opening his eyes. Okay, so yeah, Dean’s bitching was exaggerated and often wandered into TMI territory… but travel by angel definitely wasn’t Sam’s method of choice either. He blinked, squinting against the early afternoon sunlight, and focused on the building across the street.

It had been more than a little frustrating to spend almost two and a half hours trailing the familiar black bulk of the Impala on its meandering shopping trip through the city—at least Cas had been appropriately impressed by his ingenuity in finding the car again when it disappeared into the camera-less parts of town, unlike Dean who’d stopped with the awe years ago—only for it to loop back to the same goddamn strip club the siren had been camped out at for a week. Apparently he’d started giving the monsters a little too much credit. To be fair, though, they’d been mostly dealing with the higher-ups for the past couple years; he’d forgotten that sometimes the drones didn’t think to _switch fucking hideouts after they’d been found the first time._

“This is too easy.” Figures the angel would be the one with more faith… never mind that he was finding it in the scourge of the supernatural world. There was probably a clever metaphor for their lives in there somewhere.

“Yeah, well—” Sam huffed, rolling his shoulders stiffly. “Can you sense anything?”

Beside him, Castiel shifted uncomfortably, every bit of his considerable concentration focused on the deserted-looking club. “No,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing to bright blue slits, “As I said, this is too easy. It doesn’t feel… right.”

The hunter scoffed in frustration. “I think you’re missing the most obvious conclusion here, Cas.” The angel shot him a questioning look and he quirked a brow back. “You’re overestimating the damn thing.”

Castiel blinked at him dully for a second before he drew himself to his full height, raising his chin haughtily as he met Sam’s gaze. “More likely, you’re _under_ estimating it. Don’t forget, the siren has already overcome your brother and incapacitated both of us.”

“With _Dean’s_ help,” Sam muttered.

“Explain to me, exactly, why the tools and knowledge one is putting to use have to be one’s own for it to be considered tactical?” Cas leveled a stern glare at him and for the first time in a while, Sam was reminded of just what laid in wait behind those intense blue eyes. “It would have to be as stupid as you claim to ignore the vast store of resources Dean presents. Don’t let this thing lull you into a false sense of superiority. In all likelihood, it’s expecting us— it _wants_ us here. If you barge in there blind because you think you have the upper hand, you’ll only end up bleeding again, or worse… gift-wrapped for Crowley. You _know_ that, Sam, you’re smarter than this.”

Sam winced, chastened. “Right. Sorry.” He sucked at his teeth for a second, scowling sourly. “Just… frustrated.” It was a point of weakness long-acknowledged that when Dean was on the line, Sam went to pieces. And vice versa. And now Cas was thrown into the mix and they were just a triangle of epic failure. What a trio of prophesized, stuff-of-legends _idiots_. He really had no idea how they'd earned their own book and TV series.

“I know.” Castiel looked once more to the club across the street, gritting his jaw determinedly. “Sam. We’ll get him back.”

Sam chuckled half-heartedly. “Yeah.” Neither hunter nor angel would exit the building unless it was with Dean in tow— that was indisputable. Losing Dean wasn’t an option for either of them… never had been and never would be. “Okay, so,” he said after the long, contemplative moment had run its course, “What’s the plan?”

 

* * *

 

He growled in frustration, fist banging furiously into the wall as he glanced over his shoulder at Cas.

They’d scoured the club— been through every room, searched every nook and cranny and still there was no sign of Dean. Sam could practically _feel_ the seconds ticking by and each minute they failed to find them was a minute closer to his brother stepping willingly onto a one-way train straight back to the years that still haunted his nightmares.

 _“Damnit!”_ He whirled around, watching the angel as he twisted his head slowly from side to side, listening or sensing or whatever the fuck it was he did. _“Cas!_ What the fuck are we going to do!?”

The angel peeked an eye open and gave him the single most irritated one-eyed glare Sam had ever seen. “Stop panicking,” he growled, turning to make his way to the taller man’s side, “It’s not helping.”

“Well neither has anything else we’ve done for the last hour!” Sam shoved both hands through his hair with a frustrated jerk, whirling in place to take in the full view of the dark hallway.

“I know,” Cas said, very slowly and with the barely-contained ire of someone just about to snap and throttle the source of their irritation without a hint of regret.

Sam forcefully swallowed down his despair, looking to his friend desperately. “What are we missing?”

Castiel furrowed his brows sympathetically, annoyance draining away in lieu of the fear shining bright in his own eyes. “There must be a hidden room, or—” His mouth snapped shut suddenly, gaze going a bit hazy as it wandered away from Sam’s face and somewhere over his shoulder.

“Wha—?” Sam shot out a hesitant hand, hovering it over the angel’s shoulder as he searched his face worriedly. “Cas? You okay?”

Just as quickly, those blue eyes cleared, snapping back to meet Sam’s, confusion and wariness warring with hope in their depths. “Dean just prayed to me.”

Sam’s hand clamped convulsively on his shoulder. “What? _How?”_

“I don’t know.”

“Well... what’d he say?” No way, this definitely wasn't right.

Cas licked his lips, visibly torn. “He told me where he was.”

Sam fell back a step, yanking at his hair in confusion as his mind attempted to catalog all the possibilities this news brought with it. “Is he in the building?”

“He says so,” Castiel replied absently, eyes darting over the wall behind Sam. He twitched, the movement barely worth noticing, but going on six years of hanging around a dude who could zap to and fro at will got you to recognise the precursors to a takeoff.

“Hey, hey!” He snapped his fingers under the angel’s nose. “Focus!” If Dean were there, he’d probably be laughing himself stupid at how Sam and Cas were passing the panic back and forth between them like a hat— whoever wore it got to be the inept one who jumped in without looking and brought the non-existent plan crashing down around them. “Where?”

“The basement.”

“But there’s not—”

“Perhaps it’s not currently in use, so it’s been blocked off.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, okay. That’s… _somewhat_ likely, I guess. So, how do we find—?”

“I’ll take us there,” Castiel said immediately, reaching out for Sam’s shoulder.

“Whoa, hold up!” Sam ducked away. “Remember the kind-of plan!”

Castiel scowled. “The one that we both know will just fall apart the second we try to put it into action?” he snapped.

Sam stared at him. “Have you been watching _Harry Potter_ without me?” The angel’s face darkened even further and the light fixture buzzing by Sam’s ear sparked threateningly. “Okay! _Yes,_ that plan. This is a trap, Cas, you know it. If Dean’s calling you, then you’re right and the siren’s expecting us— no matter _what_ he’s saying, there’s no way he managed to break the mojo by himself. The siren just wants to get us all together and give us to Crowley as a box set.”

Cas’ face creased in frustration. “Sam, we know where he is, we can’t just leave him.”

Sam narrowed his eyes, offended. “I don’t wanna _leave_ him, you asshole! I just want to take precautions. You’re the one who said not to underestimate the damn thing.”

The angel swallowed unhappily, but nodded. “Of course.... You're right. If it wants us all together, then it would be best if we separated, at least temporarily.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Dean prayed to you, so they’ll be expecting _you._ But maybe _I_ could sneak in…. Even if it knows I’m coming—which it will—if I have any element of surprise at all, I can probably get to Dean and at least get the blood.” He patted Bobby’s old bronze dagger where it was stuck through his belt. “Think you can distract the siren?”

Castiel nodded determinedly. “It does seem more fixated on me, of the two of us.”

“Okay, so mojo us down there... but land me far enough away to sneak in.”

“Okay.”

Cas reached for him and he tensed, stomach twisting in uncomfortable anticipation.

 

* * *

 

Castiel left Sam at the bottom of the blocked-off stairwell leading down from the backstage hallway off of the main room. The hunter was muttering something about checking the wall later for a removable panel when Cas took flight once more and landed right at Dean’s side, despite full knowledge that the man had surely led him into a trap.

The basement was a large open space, half the length of the building with very little in it due to fire code restrictions... but all that meant was that Sam would have no cover when he entered. The siren had taken up residence halfway down the wall from the door leading up to the club— residence, of course, being a single king-size bed and side table with a lamp. Castiel felt a twinge of righteous fury as his eyes passed over the bed, knowing exactly what and who had been done between its sheets within the last eighteen hours.

He didn’t have time to dwell, though, as his instant, instinctive scan of the room ended with the man at his side and he realized just what Dean was in the process of. He reacted without a thought, grabbed Dean’s arm with inhuman speed and yanked, the silver dagger missing the hunter’s open palm by less than a centimeter. Dean looked over at him slowly, almost curiously, before he glanced down to the ceramic bowl filled with herbs and then to the knife in his other hand.

“Glad you could join us, Cas,” the siren cooed from behind them, and Castiel turned, still gripping Dean’s wrist and dragging him around as well. “Where’s Sammy?”

“You meant to summon Crowley the second we arrived,” Cas observed unnecessarily, idly awarding Sam a point for his foresight.

“The second he heard those wings of yours, yeah.” The siren grinned. “Dean’s _very_ attuned to the sound, you know.”

Castiel glanced sideways at the man who had not taken his eyes off of his doppelganger since the siren had first spoken. He frowned, pointedly ignoring the dull, jealous burn of having that gaze fixed on anyone but him in that manner— the eye-fucking, as Balthazar had irately referred to it, was _not_ something he wanted to share. “Why?” he asked, not looking away from Dean.

“Oh, angel,” the siren simpered, “You _know_ why. His Highness has it out for you _bad,_ and you just keep piling on the offenses! Deal-breaking, threats on his life, prophet-theft, tablet-theft… the list goes on.” It shrugged. “I think he might be getting a little desperate, bringing in the non-demon guns... but what're you gonna do? A reward's a reward." It smirked conspiratorially. "Between you and me, I think he might not be dealing with your break up too well… pretty sure he’s still got a bit of a hard on for you, but I’ve kept that one to myself in the interest of self-preservation.”

Cas narrowed his eyes. “There was nothing more than a business partnership between Crowley and myself.”

 _“Sure,_ sweetie.” The siren smirked. “Might wanna tell Dean that, sometime. He has all sorts of delightfully nasty thoughts about what you had to do to seal your deal. Even he knows that 50,000 souls are a little pricier than just a kiss.”

The angel twitched, making to jerk toward the siren, but the second he shifted with any sort of intent, Dean wrenched away from him and he was forced to let go rather than break the hunter’s arm. Dean snatched up the summoning bowl and stepped back and Castiel followed after him, but before he’d even taken a full step a familiar flicking sound drew his attention to the lighter Dean was dropping to the floor.

“I thought I told you to play nice, Cas,” the siren huffed in feigned disappointment as the ring of holy oil ignited around Castiel.

He jerked back instinctively from where he’d been frozen barely an inch from the line, glaring at the siren as it swung a familiar jug emphatically from the tip of its finger.

“All sorts of fun stuff in that trunk, isn’t there?” It sneered. “Guess you’re not going anywhere 'til I say so. Or, more importantly, 'til the King says so.”

Castiel grit his teeth, watching as the creature sauntered up to Dean, pressing itself against the full length of his side. Dean immediately curled around it, one arm circling its waist and the other rising to lay a reverent hand against the side of its neck.

“But we need to wait for darling Sam before we call his Highness,” the siren muttered absently as Dean nibbled down its throat. Blue eyes rolled languidly to meet Castiel’s over the flickering flames of his cage and it smirked. Grabbing Dean’s ass in both hands, it yanked, dragging a low moan from the hunter as they ground together. Dean dipped lower, tongue trailing slowly over the curve of its Adam’s apple, and sank eagerly to his knees. “How about a show in the meantime, Cas?”

He growled, barely managing to halt at the line of holy fire, fists clenching.

The siren chuckled, grabbing a fistful of golden-brown hair and dragging Dean away from where he’d been mouthing at the zipper of its slacks. “What do _you_ think, lover?”

“Yes, _please,”_ Dean moaned needily, scrabbling for the button of its pants, "Want you _so bad_ , Cas." He pressed desperately into its hand as it slid around the side of his head and across his cheek, sucking the fingers into his mouth without hesitation when they brushed over his lips.

Castiel had never been more grateful for the stupid, brash protective streak that ran in the Winchester family than when Sam abandoned any semblance of a plan and sent the door crashing open with an enraged “Get the _fuck_ away from him!”

The siren rolled its eyes with a frustrated groan, shoving Dean roughly away. “Wow, Dean, you’re right. He really _is_ a total cockblock.”

Sam lunged for the siren in a rage, yanking out the dagger that would be all-but-useless without Dean’s blood, but his brother met him halfway. They collided and Sam’s greater bulk sent their momentum spinning off to the side in a tangle of plaid and limbs.

The siren strode lazily over to stand beside the barrier of flames, absently toeing at the bowl Dean had left on the floor. It licked its lips thoughtfully, watching the brothers grapple. “This would be so much better with less clothes and more mud,” it mused mournfully. Shaking its head with a disappointed sigh, it turned its back on the scuffle and smirked at the angel. “Well, hel _lo_ there.”

 

* * *

 

Damnit, all he needed was a _drop—_ just one little scratch, was that so hard? Usually Dean was bloody two seconds into a fight, so what gives? Scowling, Sam swiped irately at Dean’s arm with the dagger.

The older hunter lunged to the side, whirling out of the way and coming even with Sam’s unprotected side where he delivered two sharp blows to the kidney. Sam grunted in pain, stumbling back and glaring at Dean.

He hadn’t seen his brother move this fast in a fight in… probably years. It was painful to see that old fire of determination in those green eyes and know that it was a goddamn _monster_ that had finally put it back there. But then, he _did_ remember what it was like to be under that spell— for the poison to twist and pervert him… to look at that fucker and see every last thing he’d ever wanted reflected in its eyes. He remembered being ready to kill his brother in cold blood, willing to rip him ruthlessly apart for someone he never would have even thought twice about before. And _now_ , it wasn’t just thrall that held Dean... because when he looked at it, he literally saw _Cas_ … Cas, who he would— _had_ carved a bloody path through every plane of existence for.

Sam grit his jaw determinedly, caught Dean in the solar plexus with a well-timed jab of the elbow and the older man doubled over, wheezing. He bore down on him immediately, the bronze blade of the knife glinting dully as he slashed it once more toward Dean’s bicep.

Dean flailed upright at the last second as the flash caught his eye, smacking the dagger out of Sam’s hand without meaning to and not even pausing to gloat at the chances like normal Dean would have. Staggering back, he gasped desperately for the breath he’d lost before jerking to barrel clumsily into Sam and sending them both spilling onto the floor.

The younger hunter grunted when his chin slammed painfully into something hard and smooth on Dean’s chest that wasn’t bone. _What the—?_ He rolled them, grabbing unsuccessfully for his brother’s wind-milling limbs and trying to pin the shorter man down.

Dean snarled at him, teeth bared and eyes so wide that he could trace white around the full circumference of the irises. Sam wondered for a second if that was the face he didn’t see when he was down for the count— the feral desperation Heaven and Hell and Purgatory were faced with when Dean was fighting tooth and nail to protect the most important things in his universe. With a violent, full-body spasm, Dean managed to dislodge him enough to throw him forcefully to the floor and scramble over him, reaching for the dagger that had skittered across the concrete.

“Don’t think so, dude!” Sam panted, sitting up and lunging forward to snatch at the collar of Dean’s jacket, yanking hard.

The older hunter sprawled backward with a grunt and Sam grabbed him in a choke hold, regretfully hoping to maybe take him out of commission long enough to deal with the siren. Dean gurgled at him furiously, hands scrabbling at the arms wrapped firmly across his abdomen and throat.

“S-sorry, Dean!” the younger Winchester gasped unhappily, struggling to keep hold of him as Dean thrashed desperately.

A few seconds later, Dean slumped forward bonelessly and Sam, not wanting to risk further damage, hesitantly let up a bit on his windpipe as his head drooped down over Sam's forearm. He frowned warily, mentally trying to calculate how long it should have taken for Dean to lose consciousness, because surely it didn’t happen that fas—

There was a loud crunch and a crack of pain as the back of Dean’s skull slammed brutally into his nose.

He let out a wet, gurgling snort of shock as he wrenched back, one hand trying instinctively to rise and catch the heavy flow of blood spewing over his lips and chin. Dean heaved a series of dry, painful-sounding coughs and bucked lethargically to dislodge the arm still pinning him to Sam’s chest.

Sam growled, tilting his face up to avoid further damage to his broken nose as Dean’s head snapped back and forth. He clamped down with both arms and was wrestling the older man into a sloppy parody of a sleeper hold when his wrist grazed the thing tucked into Dean’s jacket again and he felt it slip out of the inside pocket.

The little compact mirror Dean had taken with him the night before slithered out of the coat, sliding down over Dean’s chest as he continued to struggle. Sam stared at it for a contemplative second, before he snatched it up, working to pry it open while keeping Dean locked in his grip. He chanced a glance over his shoulder at where the siren—who had changed outfits, apparently—and Castiel were still squared off over the line of holy fire, checking the angle before holding the mirror out in front of them and grabbing at Dean’s chin, smearing blood across his cheeks.

“Look!” he panted roughly, voice garbled by crumpled cartilage, as he wrenched his brother’s face toward the compact, “ _Look!_ _That’s_ what you’re fighting for, you dumb fuck!”

The wild thrashing began to slow and Sam watched the single green eye he could see in the reflection widen dully. Beyond Dean, the mirror showed the siren’s grotesque true form taking a deliberate, exaggerated step up and over into the circle of holy fire as Cas stumbled hesitantly back, expression slack as he all-too-obviously began to lose his side of the thing’s mind games.

Dean blinked rapidly and a long, shuddering breath broke across the mirror, fogging the glass for a second. “Wha—?” he rasped groggily. Sam watched the eye sharpen alertly, felt Dean stiffen but stop fighting him. “Ca—” He shook his head. “Sammy?”

Sam shifted warily, not wanting another headbutt for obvious reasons. “You awake there, Don Juan?” he ventured.

A trembling hand found the fabric of his sleeve and clenched convulsively. The other man’s face was slowly working its way from confusion to comprehension to disgust and finally fury as he stared at the siren in the mirror. _“Jesus,"_ Dean hissed, "I let that ugly asshole fu—”

“Please, _no,”_ Sam jumped in hastily. “I _don’t_ need to hear any more than I already have.”

Dean made a low noise of revulsion that sounded a bit painful in his abused throat, reaching up to take the mirror from Sam’s hand.

“Are you good? You aren’t gonna jump me again if I go help Cas, are you?” Sam slowly released his brother and scooted back a careful couple of centimeters.

“Nah, I’m—” Dean froze, staring in horror at the mirror and then swiveling around with a jerk to see whatever it was for himself.

Sam barely had time to register the movement before Dean was scrambling away from him and toward the bronze dagger lying forgotten on the floor a few feet away. His motions were jerky, almost like his body was fighting him at every turn— which was probably true. The siren’s venom _was_ still in his system, even if his mind had started fighting it. He snatched up the knife shakily, twisting around and starting back toward Sam.

 _Shit._ Sam levered himself up, tensing for round two. He should’ve known there was no way it was that simple. But Dean veered around him at the last second, slicing the blade succinctly across his own forearm as he stumbled past.

 

* * *

 

Castiel watched Sam and Dean stumble out of his line of sight over the siren’s shoulder before the smirking mirror of his own face recaptured his attention. He drew himself up fully, tilting his chin defiantly as he stared the creature down.

The unfamiliar grin widened and the siren appreciatively dragged its eyes down the length of Castiel’s body. “Looks like I have you aaaaall to myself now.” It hummed thoughtfully, licking its lips again. “You know... some of the stories the demons tell about you… _man_ , they’re hard to believe when I see you like this. You’re not really so tough, are you?”

“Break the circle and we’ll see.” Castiel narrowed his eyes with a growl.

The siren snorted inelegantly. “I liked it, so I put a ring on it.” It quirked a flirtatious brow. “Circle stays.”

Cas ground his teeth impatiently, listening to the sounds of the Winchesters scuffling behind the siren and pointedly ignoring the unpleasant tingling feeling of unwelcome eyes tracing across every visible inch of his vessel.

“I _like_ Dean, you know,” the siren started conversationally, stepping up to the very edge of the fire. “I’ve had my fair share of humans, but _Dean…_ he’s really something. Then again, you know that, don’t you?” It leered and Castiel had to forcibly keep from averting his gaze. “I really hoped it’d be him, y’know… I wanted _him_ to come to the club. Nothing against Sam, of course— I mean, plus side of mind-reading is knowing _exactly_ what you’re getting before you unwrap your presents… if you know what I mean.” It winked. Cas stiffened with a protective growl. “But I’m just _so_ pleased I got Dean. I’ll have both, of course... eventually... but _Dean—”_ An exaggerated shake of the head accompanied a long, appreciative sigh. “For such an impressive slut, Dean Winchester sure takes the idea of _love-making_ to heart, doesn’t he? You’ve… _watched_ him, haven’t you, Cas? Seen how gentle he is? How, for all that bravado, he gets off most on making whoever he’s fucking feel good? He’s such a sweet little thing, really.”

“You talk too much,” Castiel growled, fists balling furiously at his sides.

“What, don’t like the sound of my voice?” The siren pursed its lips in an exaggerated pout, and then they started to change.

Cas swallowed, eyes widening as Jimmy’s familiar form shifted, melting away to be replaced by one even more familiar— long bowed legs, broad chest, artfully chiseled face, a crown of burnished golden hair.

“How ‘bout now?” the siren drawled in Dean’s most flirtatious tone. He smirked. “Oh wow, I like Dean from _this_ point of view, too. I definitely wouldn’t mind getting those bedroom eyes from _you_ on a regular basis.”

Castiel glared, shaking his head slightly. “That’s not going to work.”

“You don’t think so?” He rubbed a hand slowly over his jaw, green eyes dropping to Castiel’s lips as Dean’s so often did and the angel shifted uncomfortably. “Because you’re a—what's it— _multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent?_ Hate to break it to you, baby, but you’ve got the parts just like anyone else. Betcha you not puttin’ ‘em to use makes it even easier for the downstairs brain to take over.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Wanna find out?”

“No,” Cas said too quickly, voice wavering a little further away from firm than he would like.

“Aw, c’mon, darlin'. You can show me what else you’ve learned from the pizza man.” The siren leered.

Cas pursed his lips defiantly. “Break the circle and I guarantee you’ll see _everything_ I know.”

The siren laughed happily, amusement sparkling in those captivating green eyes. “You wanna get your hands on me _so bad,_ don’tcha?” He licked his lips slowly, skimming one hand up over his thigh and sliding it provocatively into his front pocket. “But what for? Which one of us d’you think would win in a battle of wills, Castiel?”

The angel ground his teeth. “I won’t touch you unless it’s to destroy you.”

“Oh, yeah?” The siren purred, leaning in so the fire flickered shadows over his face. “ _I_ don’t think so. See, Dean was the same way. I heard him, while he was looking for me last night. He was _so_ sure he’d have no problem stabbing me right in the heart even if I was looking at him with your big baby blues. And look where we are now.” He shrugged unrepentantly, grinning lightly. “It goes against every instinct, see… to lift a hand against your loved ones with violent intent. That’s what makes it so _fun_ after they’re under my control— that power, it’s just… intoxicating. I would absolutely _love_ to let Dean rip into you and Sammy… really show me what he learned downstairs…. But unfortunately, his Highness wants you three in relatively good condition.” He raised his hands in a _what’re-you-gonna-do_ gesture. “So, no, Cas. I don’t think you’ll touch me in any of the unpleasant ways.”

“You're wrong.”

“Hmmmm? You could really hurt this face, angel?” He shook his head, tsking in a pitying manner. “But I’m the best thing that could happen to you right now.”

Cas furrowed his brows groggily, head tilting in confusion.

The siren smiled slowly, swaying forward and watching Castiel take an unconscious step toward him in response. “I’m _Dean_ , yeah, but… not _really._ I’m everything you’ve been wanting for the past six years… without the resentment still buried deep down no matter what Dean says. You can _pretend_ with me, baby. You're good enough for _me._ You don’t deserve _Dean Winchester_ … but you can have a cheap knock-off, right? So c’mon….” He drew his leg up, stepping over the flames without even a wince and standing before Castiel inside the circle.

Dean smiled, lips stretching in a slow burn across his face, and opened his arms. “Lay one on me, sweetheart. Claim what’s yours.”

Castiel stumbled back, shocked at the overwhelming bolt of desire to do _exactly that_ which ripped through him at the sight of that gentle smile and outstretched hands. He shook his head weakly. “You’re making a mistake attempting this on an angel,” he insisted gruffly, even as he made no further move to retreat as Dean took a bold step forward. “Your ambition outstrips your reach…. You can’t fool me. You may wear his body, speak with his voice… but I'm an angel and it’s his _soul_ that I see— that I truly _want_... and you can’t imitate that.” He took a deep, shuddering breath and closed his eyes as Dean invaded his space, brushing the tip of his nose lovingly down the length of his own.

“You’re a bit more human than you seem to think, angel,” Dean murmured into the corner of his mouth.

Cas felt a warm hand sneak back and around, sliding up over the cut of his shoulder blade where the feathers of his wing were rustling in sharp longing on another plane. “Dean….” he whispered, lips parting in invitation as warm breath broke across them.

There was a rush of displaced air and flame and then Dean was arching back with a blood-curdling shriek. Castiel’s eyes slid dully open, watching hazily as Dean screamed in agony and fell, one hand clawing down the angel’s flank as he crumpled.

The spell shattered as soon as the siren hit the floor and Cas jerked back, one hand raising instinctively to wipe the thing’s breath from his skin. He stared at the body at his feet, watching Dean’s beloved form melt slowly into the twisted visage of the true siren. Swallowing shamefully at the thought of how close he had come to letting that abomination’s lips touch his own, he glanced up across the space the siren had occupied a moment before.

“H-hey, buddy,” Dean muttered weakly, licking his lips uncertainly as their eyes met. He lowered the bloody dagger still clutched in his hand, allowing it to clatter to the floor as he swayed.

“Dean?” Castiel jerked forward a split second too late as Dean’s eyes rolled back and he dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. I dunno if the mirror thing would work that way, but it was just so delightfully dramatic!
> 
> Next chapter will for realsies be the end this time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, be warned: it officially takes a turn for the disgustingly cute at the end. Sometimes, Dean and Cas just need horrific amounts of fluff.

Dean clawed his way back to consciousness, and it was a far slower process than he was used to. He peeked one eye blearily open and the sharp sting of morning sunlight sent him rolling onto his side with a pathetic moan. “Oh god, just let me die….” he whimpered into his pillow.

“Yeah, we generally try to avoid letting that happen, actually,” Sam’s voice snorted from somewhere above and to his right.

“I feel like I played a drinking game with Cas,” Dean whined, attempting to curl into a ball and quickly flattening himself back out when the movement just made every muscle scream bloody murder. “And _lost.”_

“More like you were a siren’s butt-monkey for eighteen hours.”

He stiffened as Sam’s sarcastic correction brought a torrential downpour of memories from said eighteen hours flooding into his brain, before shooting up and ignoring his body’s unanimous shriek of dismay at the movement. “Shit, Sam! Your no—”

“It’s cool, dude,” Sam hastened to reassure him, tapping at his unbroken nose with his free hand, “I’m fine. Cas took care of it.”

“Where is he?” Dean asked frantically, switching gears the second his baby brother proved unharmed. “Is he o—?”

Sam flicked his head in the direction of Dean’s right shoulder and the older hunter shifted around enough to see the angel seated at the table near the door across the room, elbows resting on the edge of it and head bowed over his clasped hands. “He’s been like that for a few hours. I think he’s meditating.”

Dean deflated in boneless relief, slowly twisting to lower himself onto his back, propped against the pillow. “Fuck,” he mumbled, wincing as he scrubbed at his face with both hands, “Fucking fuck _shit_. What the hell did I do?” There was a worrisome stinging in the corners of his eyes and he rubbed at them furiously. “I can’t believe— I tried to hand you over to _Crowley….”_

Something cool and smooth nudged his fingers and he peeked one blurry eye at the glass Sam was proffering.

“It wasn’t _you_ , Dean,” the younger hunter said firmly, brandishing the water again when Dean didn’t take it, “You had no control, you know that.”

He grunted disbelievingly, only taking the glass when liquid started spilling over his hand every time Sam knocked it into his knuckles. “Yeah, sure, whatever. It shouldn’t’ve gotten to that point in the first place. I should’ve killed the fucker.”

Sam’s brows furrowed sadly and his empathy face switched on. “Dean, it’s not your fault. I—” He shrugged helplessly, averting his gaze. “I know I wouldn’t have been able to stab Amelia… even if I _knew_ it wasn’t her… so, I never should've expected you to be able to do it, either. I should’ve gone with you.”

Dean sighed, feeling his little brother’s guilt wash over him like a wave. He pursed his lips, turning to his water. Man, it was royally fucked up that mutual guilt was their family's default state. “Let’s just agree that we both suck and move on, shall we?” he offered around the rim of the glass.

Sam grinned weakly, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. Lesson learned for next time.”

The older hunter gurgled his agreement as he downed the water, noticing with shock how thirsty he actually was. “Shit,” he gasped, thrusting the empty glass at Sam demandingly, “Did I miss getting lost in the desert or something?”

“You can only have one more,” Sam cautioned as he got up to get a refill, “At least for now. You’d probably make yourself sick if you drink too much.” He grimaced, looking more than a bit disturbed as he continued. “You’re dehydrated and I really prefer not to think about how _that_ hap—”

Dean crunched his face up in confusion before realization kicked him rudely in the balls. “Oh, _gross,_ dude!” he yelled, glaring at Sam venomously, “I’m dehydrated ‘cause I haven’t _drank_ anything for over a day, not—! I don’t even think it’s possible to get dehydrated that way!”

Sam scrunched his nose in distaste. “It is if you do it enough," he grumbled, sounding ridiculously uncomfortable, "Theoretically, you could probably die if you have too much sex without ingesting any liquids.”

“I did _not_ fuck myself _dry_ , okay?” Dean growled, snatching the water and twisting away from him pointedly, “Shit, I probably would've died of exhaustion first." He paused, barely holding back a full-body shudder. "And we are _so_ not having this conversation.”

Sam huffed behind him, falling onto the edge of the bed, but dropped it, much to their mutual relief.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes as Dean nursed his water and mentally rewound the events of the previous day. He winced, remembering in cruel, high-definition clarity the pained, horrified expression on Cas’ face every time Dean had gotten up close and personal with the siren. Fumbling with the empty glass, he absently roamed the room with his gaze, pointedly staying away from the area near the table.

_“Dude.”_

Shit, he could practically _hear_ Sam rolling his eyes. “What?” he barked.

“You can get away with not talking with _me,_ since God knows I know too much about your sex life already, and we have an unspoken pact to repress the shit out of most everything else.... But eventually you should probably talk to _Cas_ about it. You know, since he’s _your heart’s deepest desire_ and all.” He practically radiated self-satisfaction.

Dean grimaced. “Christ, Sam. Do you have to say it like that?”

“Uh, _yeah._ That’s what a siren _is.”_ He snorted in irritation, grabbing the glass Dean had still been toying with and setting it on the side table. “Look, I’m gonna tell you what I told him, okay?”

 _“‘What you—!?’”_ Dean started in horror.

Sam plowed right over him. “It’s your business and we already live in each other’s pockets enough without oversharing our love lives, so, as a rule, I don’t generally mention it. But, man… watching you two is _painful._ I think I might’ve talked some sense into Cas, but what’s _your_ excuse? Why won’t you just tell him you l—”

“You’re right, Sam, it’s not your business,” Dean growled.

He glared and Sam glared back for a long moment before the younger man threw up his hands and got to his feet.

“You know what? Fine. _Fine_. I was just trying to help. God, you two— _he_ thinks he doesn’t deserve you, _you’re_ afraid he’ll leave you…. Do you _get_ that if you just _talked_ everything would be fine!?”

Nothing was ever fine. “Yeah, ‘cause we’re such good communicators,” Dean grunted at the sheets.

“I think it’s an area of opportunity for us, actually.”

Dean jumped in a rustle of blankets, jerking around to find Castiel sitting up straight in his chair and regarding the brothers with an expression of amusement.

 _“Jesus,_ Cas,” Dean snapped indignantly, feeling an uncomfortable heat flood across his face. He cleared his throat. “How long have you been listening?”

“Long enough,” the angel replied simply, rising to his feet and crossing the room to the bedside.

“Didn’t your deadbeat dad ever teach you it’s rude to eavesdrop!?” Dean dropped his gaze to watch the tan fabric of the trench coat rustle against the lurid orange blanket.

In lieu of a reply, he felt gentle fingers brush softly against his cheek and a rush of warmth shot through him as every ache and pain faded immediately away. He sighed gratefully, closing his eyes in relief. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the way he leaned greedily into the touch.

“I’m very happy to see you awake,” Castiel said quietly, and when Dean chanced a glance up, his uncharacteristically soft expression nearly stole the hunter’s breath. _Wow,_ that was... _nice._

Cas’ fingers, he couldn’t help but notice, hadn’t really managed their retreat—assuming they'd even attempted one—and instead were caressing lightly across his temple toward his ear. Dean's eyelids drooped pleasantly and he tilted his face into the angel's palm as it grazed across his jaw. He _did,_ at least, manage to hold back the goddamn _purr_ that was fighting its way up his throat; he had to draw the line somewhere, after all.

“O _kay,_ ” said Sam’s voice uncomfortably from somewhere beyond electric blue eyes and therefore no place Dean had any desire to know of, “So, _I’m_ gonna go get some breakfast. I need some coffee since I _stayed at your bedside all night,_ but of course, there’s no need to thank me. What’re brothers for?” He made his way noisily toward the door, snatching the car keys off the table and shrugging into his jacket. “I’ll be gone a long time. _Hours_ , probably.”

Dean blinked out of his daze, shifting to glance over at where Sam was outlined in the open doorway. He rolled his eyes. “ _Subtle_ , Sammy.”

“Really?" the younger man drawled. "It wasn’t meant to be.” He looked between them pointedly. “Seriously. _Talk.”_

The door slammed shut and silence filled the motel room, broken only by the sound of the Impala growling to life and slowly fading into the distance.

Dean fidgeted awkwardly as Castiel's eyes ran their familiar course over his face and down, tracing the full length of his sprawled body before coming back up. He really, _really_ didn't want to have this conversation.

“Are you alright?” Cas finally asked softly, sinking down to perch on the edge of the bed where Sam had been.

Dean sighed in defeat, falling back to lean against the headboard. “Yeah, mostly. Kinda feel like a dick… but what’s one more guilt trip, right?” He forced a smile for the angel, before his face quickly fell. “How ‘bout you?” he asked anxiously.

He'd never seen the angel so angry or... fuck, _broken_ as when Dean'd caught a glimpse of him while he and the siren had slobbered all over each other that first time. Dean wasn't any more vain than the next ridiculously good-looking guy who'd saved the world a couple times, but he was pretty sure—especially considering recent events—that Cas had carried at least a _little_ torch for him at one point in time. And if Cas'd spent the last day feeling anything like what Dean had experienced when he'd seen the siren just barely _going in_ for a kiss with the angel looking so groggy and submissive and— well. Dean had stabbed that fucker in the back. And as an added bonus... it'd broken the spell, too.

“I’m fine,” Cas said simply.

And... huh. He actually did seem to be. The hunter watched him closely as he took a sudden great interest in the tip of his tie. There _was_ something different about him—he seemed a bit lighter, less burdened. _‘I think I might’ve talked some sense into Cas,’_ Sam had said. Was it possible that… just maybe—?

“Dean, I’ve been thinking—”

“I saw your siren,” Dean blurted out the first thing that came to mind, wincing as he unintentionally cut the angel off.

Castiel blinked slowly, studying his face as he took that in. “Yes….” he finally agreed, and it almost sounded more like a question.

“’s just….” He fidgeted uncomfortably. As fucked up as it was, he felt a tiny rush of giddy warmth at the thought that _he_ had been the physical manifestation of Castiel’s desire— that the angel, for whatever crazy-ass reason, wanted _him._ “It was… _me.”_

Cas huffed a very quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Well, yes. What else would it have been?”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and that kind of blew Dean’s mind a little. He frowned. “I dunno, dude… something. _Anything."_ Dean could be arrogant as all fuck, yeah, but he knew that he didn't even come close to deserving Castiel.  _Everyone_ knew that, actually; Crowley, demons, angels— even Purgatory had seen the way Dean had trailed after him like a goddamn lovesick dog. And Cas... well, he'd had every right to run away from him like he had. He swallowed painfully. "You could have _anyone_ you want, easy. It could’ve been—”

“No,” Cas said firmly, “It couldn’t. There was nothing else it could have been. I think you _know_ that, but your insecurities are making you doubt what is undeniably true.”

Dean swallowed, running a shaky hand over his mouth as he cleared his throat. Fuck. Just like that? After _years_ of romance-novel-worthy lusty gazes and unrequited longing... a couple sentences and it all came to a head? “So, it’s easy as that, huh? I’m _your_ siren, you’re _my_ siren, and everything’s all puppies and rainbow-shitting unicorns?”

Castiel’s brow wrinkled in a frankly adorable mix of confusion and disgust. “That... rather disturbing image aside… no, I don’t believe it’s that easy.”

Of course. _You stupid fuck._ There was too much bad blood. He should've known they'd missed their chance— should've given up the ghost as soon as Cas had chosen a fucking _demon_ over his family. He was stupid to think they'd ever be able to come back from that, really. But _goddamnit,_ they'd gotten so _close—_

“Right,” Dean muttered, averting his gaze, “'Cause when've our lives _ever_ been easy?” _When have we ever gotten what we want?_

“Dean….” Cas cajoled immediately, and the hunter felt him shift closer on the bed, pressing against his thigh. “That’s not what I meant. Just because something isn’t _easy,_ doesn’t mean it’s out of the question. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from humanity, it’s that you usually have to work for the things you want most.”

Dean’s breath caught, his head snapping up to meet Castiel’s gaze. “Wha…?”

“Sam and I talked while we were tracking you. He brought to light… things that I hadn’t taken into consideration. I’ve thought about it at length—I spent most of the time you were unconscious in a state of contemplation similar to that of seeking revelation—and I think….” Cas licked his lips, seeming almost a bit hesitant. “I’ve reordered my priorities.”

Dean mouthed wordlessly, unsure of how he was supposed to respond to that— unsure of what it even really _meant._ “Oh,” he finally settled on, “Okay…?”

“I still need to complete my penance,” Castiel said guiltily, picking at the hem of his coat, “It’s a task I doubt I will ever truly succeed in— at the very least… not during your lifetime. But….” He swallowed. Dean felt his own mouth go dry as the angel looked up to meet his eyes with so much hope it almost hurt. “If you would like… I want to do it at your side. If you'll have me.”

There was a ringing silence. Crowley probably could have burst through the door with a pack of Hellhounds and Dean wouldn’t even notice.

“What—?” He coughed hesitantly. “What does that mean?”

Cas sucked in a long, shaky breath, drawing himself up firmly. “It _means_ , Dean, that I _love_ you... and... if you’ll have me, I would like to spend the rest of your _life_ loving you. And hopefully your afterlife too, if you’re amenable and I’m allowed into Heaven….”

“Oh,” Dean said again, feeling like every thought in his head had slithered uselessly out of his ear.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably after a minute of nothing, his eyes darting around more than Dean had ever seen. “Is— have I said something wrong? I know that much has passed between us that should make this impossible, but... I thought— with what's happened this past year that— _Dean...."_ He swallowed, eyes vulnerable and so horribly human. "Do you... not want me?”

Dean felt the world snap violently back into focus at that. _“What?”_ he choked. “Don’t be an idiot. We’ve been over the part where _you were my siren?”_

“Yes, but—” Wow, Cas was really nervous, now that he was 100% tuned back in. “A heart’s desire doesn’t necessarily have to be… _love…_ it could simply be _lust_ , or—”

“Shut up, Cas.” Dean interrupted, lips stretching over his words in a giddy, lopsided smile. “I’m _amenable.”_

 _"Oh."_ Cas stilled—practically crumpled in relief—and Dean reached out to wrap a hand around his bicep.

“Just promise me something?” He tugged gently and Cas slid easily up the mattress until he had to twist fully around to maintain eye-contact. “No more radio silence, okay? If you’ve gotta go, that’s fine. Just… _answer,_ I don’t care how. But I need to know you’re okay. I can’t go through you disappearing and not knowing if you’re alive or dead, again. Deal?” His hand slid up across the angel’s shoulder to cup the base of his skull, thumb brushing softly through the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

Castiel shuddered, resting a hand on either side of Dean’s chest and pressing eagerly back into the touch. “Okay,” he whispered, “Deal.”

Dean’s grin widened, his stomach twisting happily as his free hand reached up to twine itself in Castiel’s tie. “I believe deals are traditionally sealed with something.”

The angel chuckled. “Of course. We can’t go against tradition.”

“Nope.”

Cas leaned down, pausing to meet Dean’s eyes at the last second, like he was taking the time to admire this new perspective on them, and pressed their mouths together. It was kind of anticlimactic, really. There was no heavenly chorus or burst of angelic light… definitely no sudden rush of siren-oxytocin. It was just… Cas.

Holy shit, it was _Cas._

Dean's breath hitched as full understanding of the situation finally seemed to rush him. He tangled his hand in Castiel’s hair and shifted him gently into an angle that drew a quiet, breathy sound of pleasure from the angel as Dean sucked his bottom lip between his own, laving generous, loving attention over it before moving happily on to the other. Cas reciprocated eagerly, breaking the first kiss to deliver the second through eighth in rapid succession as he climbed fully onto the bed, stradling Dean’s hips... and then Dean lost count. He fisted the hand in Cas’ hair firmly, holding him still for long enough to land a beseeching lick to the tiny gap between his lips before reverently searching out his tongue when he was allowed entrance.

“Hmm….” He hummed a long moment later, dragging his tongue torturously over the sensitive roof of Castiel’s mouth just to feel him shiver as he drew back. He blinked lazily, smirking as he watched Cas lick his swollen lips. _“Much_ better than siren-you.”

“Good,” Cas growled, dipping down to lay a wet kiss against the point of his chin before slowly licking his way up, tickling over stubble, until his tongue fell into Dean’s waiting mouth. He slid it teasingly against the hunter’s for just a second and then drew back.

“Shit,” Dean panted, glaring his disapproval while his hands slithered up under coat and blazer, fisting Castiel's dress shirt in frustration as the angel shifted over him, “Who taught you how to tease?”

“Daphne,” Cas replied matter-of-factly, moving up to kiss the corner of his eye. “You seem to forget that I was married.”

Dean pulled a face. He could feel those damn lips quirking into a tiny self-satisfied smirk against his skin. “Uh, _yeah_ , ‘cause it wasn’t _you._ She married a random dude she found naked in the woods. Who does that?”

Cas chuckled, continuing his line of kisses across Dean’s cheek, down his jaw, and up the other side of his face. “Regardless, I learned some things you might find interesting." He nipped shamelessly at the sensitive flesh just behind Dean's ear and the hunter shuddered involuntarily.

“Yeah, _real_ sexy, sweetheart,” he drawled with pointed nonchalance even as he angled his head to aid in Castiel’s exploration, “Nothin' I wanna hear about more than the last person you were with.”

Cas drew back with an unamused quirk of his brow. “Really, Dean? Would you like to try and top how the last person _you_ were with told me _in detail_ about the way you screamed for him?”

Dean winced. “Low blow, angel.”

And then Castiel’s eyelids lowered, his pupils blatantly dilating. Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. _What the—?_

“Would you like me to?”

 _Holy **shit.**_ Did Cas just kinda-sorta-almost talk dirty to him? His mouth dropped open wordlessly and he stared at the angel as he slowly shifted down Dean’s body, trench coat pooling around them. “I—uh….” He groaned as the tip of Castiel’s chin drew a line down his sternum, feather-light through his tee shirt, and hovered emphatically over the drawstring of his sweatpants. “Shit, Cas, you can’t say stuff like that! We just kissed for the first time!”

“So?” Castiel grabbed roughly at the blanket draped over Dean’s legs, awkwardly shuffling around on his knees as he drew it aside before resettling himself above the hunter. He propped himself up on his elbow, lips barely a half-inch from Dean's when he asked, “Were you not planning on having sex with me?” His eyes widened, but the affected hurt was overshadowed by sparkling amusement and _fuck_ a goddamn _angel of the **Lord** _ had just offered to friggin' _blow him. Holy blowjobs, Batman! **...Literally.**_

“Oh, goddamnit.” Dean threw an arm over his eyes. When had his angel turned into this? Last time sex was anywhere near the equation, Cas had been about two seconds away from smiting the entire building and fleeing for his virtue. He had half a mind to track down one Daphne Allen and— He shuddered as a warm thumb dipped beneath the hem of his pants and brushed over the skin of his hip. He gulped. “Of _course_ I was, just—” _later._

“I can still see the siren on you.” Dean’s arm lifted like a shot and he stared down into stormy blue eyes across the length of his chest.  _The hell?_ Where had that come from? This was at least the second most confusing proposition he'd ever received. Castiel swallowed, throat working unhappily. “I can sense its lingering taint. It kissed you… it claimed you. It took what is _mine.”_

_‘You’re mine, Dean Winchester. **Say it.** ’_

_‘Yours, yours…. **Cas**.... Always. **Yours**.’_

Okay. He got that. He got the need to lay claim. If that damn thing had actually managed to get its lips on his angel....

“It… it was _you_ , Cas,” he said shakily, reaching down to card his hand through Castiel’s hair soothingly, “The only reason it got anywhere _near_ me was ‘cause it was you. I was pissed off ‘cause of Sam and Benny and horny ‘cause I haven’t even wanted anything but you for ages and you were unavailable… and it was there, saying all sorts of shit right out of my— uh….” He flushed.

Castiel softened, intensity burning right out of him, and dropped to rest his chin on Dean’s belly. “Fantasies?” he prompted with a hint of amusement in his eyes. He cocked his head to the side curiously, like he used to do when Earth was still so new and strange, and his stubble prickled lightly over the bare skin where Dean's tee shirt had ridden up.

It was a little weird how... _quickly_ they'd slipped into this easy intimacy. Everything with Cas had always felt a bit like waging a war, it was strange to have everything fall into place with only a few half-hearted skirmishes.

The hunter snorted, rolling his eyes. “Glad _you_ find it so funny. Yeah, he— uh… it mighta played off a _few_ fantasies….”

Cas pursed his lips. “Which—?” Dean made a mildly horrified face at him, but Castiel quirked a haughty brow and dug his chin down as he pointedly finished. “Which ones?”

Aw, _hell no._ That sounded more than a little too _informed._ “What do you _mean ‘which ones?’”_

Those blue eyes blinked innocently up at him and Dean was dead certain that it was complete bullshit. “You pray in your sleep.”

 _Oh, god-fucking- **damnit.**_ He literally _felt_ the blush explode across the full length of his body that time. “You—” He slapped a hand to his face, groaning. “You’re a creepy sonuvabitch sometimes, you know that?” He laughed weakly into his palm before peeking down at his—shit, his _what? Lover?—_ his angel from between his fingers.

Cas tilted his head exaggeratedly in the other direction, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the smirk obviously twitching at the corners of his lips. “Does that mean you’re vetoing the sex?”

Dean lurched up, grabbing the cheeky fucker by the lapels of his trench coat and rolling them over, infinitely grateful that Cas was in a playful mood and letting himself be manhandled. Fuck, this was so weird. But then again, when had they ever done anything normally? “Oh, _no,_ ” he growled into the angel’s face, yanking one of his arms up and stripping it of its sleeve before moving roughly to the other. “You’ve been sneaking into my dreams again... so you know _exactly_ what I want, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, eyes half-lidded and smoldering. _Wow._

Dean swallowed, quirking a brow in challenge as he sat back on the angel's knees and crossed his arms. “So _prove it.”_

“Alright.” Cas pressed himself up onto his elbows, slowly shimmying the trench coat out from underneath himself and digging around in the pocket for a second before dropping it over the edge of the bed.

Dean shifted further back on his haunches, watching in frustrated amusement as he casually typed away at his phone, not even seeming to notice that the hunter was there and very much in need of his attention. He tapped an irritated tattoo against his forearm, wriggling for a second until his thighs were straddling pelvis instead of legs and frowned as Cas barely even twitched in response when he sensually rolled his hips down over the angel's. Seriously? Come  _on._ “What the _hell_ are you _doing?”_

“Keeping a promise,” Cas muttered absently, pressing a final button and tossing the phone after the coat.

“Done now?” Dean drawled haughtily.

“Yes.” Castiel's hands slithered up to settle over his waist.

“Can we _continue_ now?”

“Yes.” Castiel's thumbs found their way once more to his hipbones and brushed along the curve of them as he stared up at Dean with nothing short of complete adoration.

Dean rolled his eyes. He couldn’t fight the laugh that forced its way up his throat and threw his head back to let it loose. “Oh my _god,_ this is the worst foreplay ever,” he lamented to the ceiling, shaking his head with a grin.

Castiel quirked an overly serious brow. “We’ll see,” he said simply, and Dean only had a second to brace himself before the angel was surging up, attacking his lips with all the considerable force of a warrior of heaven, and slamming him into the mattress to declare war against his clothes.

 

* * *

                                                                                                                         

Sam’s phone buzzed its way merrily across the tabletop.

He swallowed his coffee and set the mug down, smiling at the waitress as she dropped off the check on her way to the next booth.

Snatching up the phone, he opened the new text message.

 

_From: **Cas**_

_You will need to start getting your own room. Immediately._

_10:06 AM_

He wasn’t sure whether to feel triumphant or mildly nauseous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...The End.


End file.
